


unlikely lovers

by orphan_account



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Broadway References, Broadway Star!Seungmin, Falsettos - Freeform, Falsettos References, Flirting, Fluff, Kim Seungmin-centric, Kissing, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mutual Pining, seungmin plays whizzer in falsettos, this is the happiest shit i've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23164567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “You’re like a modern-day Judy Garland,” Changbin observed. “No one can take their eyes off of you when you’re commanding a stage, you know.”
Relationships: Kim Seungmin/Seo Changbin
Comments: 33
Kudos: 150





	unlikely lovers

Seungmin sees the lights dim on-stage as Mendel’s last line is sang, despair in his voice as he stares down at the grave of Seungmin’s character.

It’s the final show night—one to be “remembered for years to come,” Seungmin was told—and he feels, well...not like he should be feeling. Empty, you could say, like countless rehearsals and blocking and memorization of song lyrics had worn him down completely. He was exhausted, as he was at the end of any show, but it didn’t feel like that gratifying sort of exhaust when you know you’ve done something great. It didn’t feel like he should be celebrating, or weeping tears of joy, or anything of that caliber.

He felt just as his character had before death, except somehow worse.

The charismatic, lovable Whizzer Brown had someone to cling to, to look forward to seeing day by day, right up to his tear-jerking final moments. He was never alone, never truly isolated or without a home to call his own. Because while his partner, Marvin, hadn’t treated him always as he deserved, he still _had_ Marvin. He had Jason, Cordelia, Charlotte, and hell, even Trina and Mendel. He was in love and he was looked after by his friends.

Seungmin felt completely and utterly alone.

No matter the few friends he had made in the business or the fans he had met throughout his short career as a young, famous Broadway star, he was still missing some sort of comfort or reason to keep pursuing what he loved. There was nothing driving him towards success anymore, nothing to look forward to when he woke up each and every morning. It was routine at this point, and that scared him more than anything else in the world.

He was slowly falling into this pattern of self-hatred, constantly, and even in moments where he should have been incredibly proud of the efforts he made, he was empty.

The auditorium was submerged in total darkness, and soon enough the audience roared in applause and shouts; Seungmin could picture them getting up on their feet, one by one.

He walked on stage for the bows. The lights came up, and he plastered the biggest smile he could muster on his face, ignoring the stinging at the corners of his eyes and the lump of something sinister in the back of his throat.

It was all a blur from there, really.

Crowds of people swarmed him outside of the auditorium, and Seungmin greeted each and every single one of them with a “thank you for coming,” listened to the people that had been affected by the revival (or RE-revival, keeping the 2016 rendition in mind) of Falsettos, one of the many successful musicals written by William Finn.

People loved Whizzer Brown, and they loved Kim Seungmin by association.

They loved the chemistry he had with his costar, Christopher Bang, the way he made Whizzer and Marvin’s relationship completely believable. They loved the passion in his voice at the end of “The Games I Play,” the anger and desperation he expresses oh-so perfectly. And holy _fuck_ did they absolutely eat up the way he belted in “You Gotta Die Sometime;” some nights it would earn him a standing ovation.

But no one knew how Seungmin felt, and, as pathetically angsty as it sounded, no one really cared.

“It is just so nice to see a straight ally representing our community so well,” a middle-aged woman wearing a pride pin told him, shaking his hand vigorously and beaming from ear to ear.

He was gay, but he found the situation to be the most amusement he had felt all night, so he said a simple “Of course, thank you so much” and nodded with as much gusto as humanly possible to match the energy of her handshake.

The following hours were much more boring. Signing Playbills of strangers, helping tear down the set, saying his goodbyes to emotional coworkers. 

One of the clarinet players came up to him and sobbed into his jacket for a solid fifteen minutes, mumbling incoherently about how much he would miss performing the pieces from the show.

Seungmin just patted him on the back awkwardly.

Eventually, Seungmin was one of the last people to leave the building. It was a few minutes past midnight, and his limbs felt so incredibly heavy at this point, he almost considered flopping over on the side of the street and sleeping right then and there.

The cold kept him awake; his leather jacket didn’t put up much of a fight against the late-night chill, and Seungmin shivered, watching his breath leave his lips in puffs of air.

He walked up to the edge of the crosswalk, hands in his pockets, and was about to begin his trek towards the lot his ‘95 Chevy Camaro was parked in.

“There he is,” a voice said, and Seungmin practically shit himself, turning to find the source of the voice with an exclamation of “Jesus fucking Christ!”

And there he stood.

A man he had never met before, wearing a long-sleeved shirt, half of which was plaid and the other half white. He had black, unkempt hair, dark eyes, and—holy shit, was that an eyebrow slit?

“Uh,” Seungmin said, because that was all he _could_ say to a hot stranger who had just announced his arrival as if they were best friends.

“Kim Seungmin,” the stranger said with a lazy grin, looking him up and down. “And here I was thinking I had waited a tad too long, that I had missed you.”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, confusion evident on his face. “Excuse me—I mean, uh,” Seungmin stuttered out, not knowing what the other meant by that. “Have you been—”

“Waiting for you? Since the show ended, yeah,” the stranger finished for him. “Can’t miss a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity like this, can I?”

Seungmin went slack-jawed, looking at the man in front of him in complete shock. He tried to piece together what was just said in his mind, tried to comprehend the words in their vague and incredibly confusing entirety. “The show...Falsettos? Tonight? Like, the musical?” Seungmin said disbelievingly, pointing his thumb towards the theatre behind him.

“No, I actually attended an improvised play put on by forty people in Central Park, all of which were on acid whilst performing,” the stranger said, a wistful smile appearing on his face, as if he was recalling something of powerful caliber. “It was one to be remembered for years to come, surely.”

Seungmin stared at the stranger in silence, furrowing his eyebrows in deep thought.

“Are you joking, or are you actually serious?”  
  


“Yes, I’m fucking joking! Of course I saw Falsettos!” the stranger said, loudly cackling at the look of someone who had just been deceived that came over Seungmin.

“But...but the show ended over two hours ago!”

“Sure did,” the stranger said, whistling. “Boy, I’ve been out here for awhile now, haven’t I? Spent most of my time sat on this here curb.” He gestured to the curb in question dramatically, forcing Seungmin to muffle a laugh. “Mind sitting with me?”

Seungmin thought to himself that this was probably the stupidest thing he could possibly consider, sitting down with a random man that had waited for him, him _specifically_ , after a show. He thought that this could very well be how his miserable life would end—not slowly and painfully, like Whizzer Brown’s, but quickly and mostly warranted, maybe even welcomed.

“If a pretty New Yorker like yourself is the reason I wind up dead in a ditch somewhere come tomorrow morning, know I will totally haunt you in the afterlife,” Seungmin said with a huff, sitting down on the curb.

“Oh, please; that’s the last thing on my mind right now,” the stranger disregarded, plopping down onto the curb beside Seungmin. “Name’s Changbin, by the way, although ‘pretty New Yorker’ might roll off the tongue a bit better.”

Seungmin couldn’t tell if his face was reddening from the cold or from embarrassment, but either way, he felt himself heat up a bit. “Think I’ll stick to Changbin, if that’s alright with you.”

“Of course you can stick to me,” Changbin said with a broad smile. “It _is_ a bit chilly, after all. Gotta keep warm and such.”

Seungmin lightly punched his newfound company in the arm.

“Fuck, okay!” Changbin said exasperatedly, still smiling like he had just won the lottery nonetheless. “So are you gonna ask me why I was waiting for you, or do I have to do all the hard work here?”

“I don’t think providing me with an explanation on your own volition is ‘hard work,’ but alright, Changbin, I’ll shoot: what possessed you to wait for me to leave the theatre for over two hours?” Seungmin asked, genuinely curious, though he wouldn’t show it.

“The first time I had heard of Falsettos, I was just sixteen,” Changbin said slowly, announcing each word he spoke as if he were narrating a film.

Seungmin found it strangely endearing, the way he was constantly trying to make him laugh.

“Depressed as fuck, still in the closet, afraid I would never escape,” Changbin continued. “I found Falsettos when I needed it most. I saw myself in the musical, and while I couldn’t particularly relate to those middle-aged men going through that...that crisis, I still saw myself nonetheless. The representation meant the world to me—it was the first time I had really heard anything like that in a musical, you know. Main characters that were multifaceted and also happened to be gay. That was, well. It was monumental.”

“Holy shit,” Seungmin mumbled, looking across the street at the lights in the distance, listening to the noises of a city that was busy and bustling even at midnight. “Yeah. Yeah, I definitely feel that.”

“I figured,” Changbin mused. “I guess I just wanted to meet the guy that’s currently embodying Whizzer with everything he has.”

He paused for a moment, and Seungmin felt like he was staring into his soul, analyzing him from the inside out.

Maybe this guy was about to tell Seungmin he was doing an injustice to the character, that he wasn’t passionate enough, or playful enough, or—fuck, maybe he wasn’t _gay_ enough. That woman _had_ approached him earlier with the assumption that he was a straight ally. Is that how everyone saw him? Some heterosexual infiltrating the decades of history and representation behind this musical, written by one of the best gay composers that had ever lived?

Maybe Seungmin just wasn’t enough. Maybe that empty feeling he had been struggling to fight off for the past couple of months was a sign that he should just pack it all in, stop acting and singing and playing a part that he couldn’t convey as sincerely as he would have liked to.

He mentally prepared himself for it, for criticism he’d carry with him throughout the rest of his life. He felt his hands tighten into fists and his entire body stiffened up, ready to both mentally and physically repel any cutthroat insults he was about to receive.

“You’re like a modern-day Judy Garland,” Changbin observed. “No one can take their eyes off of you when you’re commanding a stage, you know.”

Seungmin waited.

The insults never came.

Seungmin blinked a tear or two back—he hadn’t even realized how badly he was working himself up, just sitting here—and he looked at Changbin in incredulity.

“You don’t mean that, do you?” he said quietly, messing with his hands in his lap. “I feel like a fucking robot up there, emulating emotions I’ve never even experienced before.”

“Are you serious? You’ve never been in love?”

“Well, it’s not just that,” Seungmin defended, closing his leather jacket tighter around himself to combat the cold of the night. “Whizzer is so...complex. He experiences so much and seems so human; that’s why he’s usually a fan favorite. I don’t feel like that, like I offer much complexity, or that I add much to his character.”

Changbin barked out a laugh. “Don’t know about that. Sad, mysterious Broadway star sitting on the curb in the middle of the night with a stranger? You sound more complex than you’re making yourself out to be.”

Seungmin shook his head. “Nope. I’m just boring.”

Changbin rested his elbow on his knee, holding his chin in his hand. He bit down on his bottom lip, and something about his gaze made Seungmin want to turn away from him. He felt too exposed right here, pouring his heart out to someone he had met just minutes prior.

“I don’t think you’re boring,” Changbin said simply. “I think I’m interested in getting to know you.”

Seungmin squinted at him. “It’s past midnight. It’s freezing cold outside. I literally don’t know you. And yet…” he trailed off, words on the tip of his tongue, “if I were Whizzer Brown.”

If Seungmin were Whizzer Brown, he wouldn’t miss an opportunity to make a friend, let alone someone who respected his work just as much as Changbin seemed to. If Seungmin were Whizzer Brown, he would have the confidence to take this guy back to his apartment and talk to him deep into the early morning. If Seungmin were Whizzer Brown, they would lay on his sofa and talk about their dreams and aspirations until they saw the sun begin to rise. If Seungmin were Whizzer Brown, he would listen to what the pounding in his chest was telling him, what his heart was telling him. He would listen to that initial attraction and happiness and everything good that was blossoming at the pit of his stomach when he looked at the man sitting next to him on the curb.

If Seungmin were Whizzer Brown, he would acknowledge the fact that this conversation he was having right now—with the man who had joked about watching forty performers in Central Park tripping on acid—was the most alive he had felt in...he didn’t even know how long. He would acknowledge that the emptiness had been washed away, even momentarily, and he was dying to know Changbin better than any cast member he had befriended or manager he had ever worked with or acquaintances he spoke to at the bar on West 67th Street.

“Take into consideration,” Changbin reminded, the corners of his mouth lifting just barely, “that I don’t give a fuck what Whizzer Brown would do. I want to know what Kim Seungmin would do, right now, with the pretty New Yorker that’s _more_ than intrigued by him.”

_Kiss_ , he thought to himself immediately. _Kim Seungmin would kiss the pretty New Yorker._

But he didn’t.

“I suppose I’d offer him a ride home, considering how late it is,” Seungmin tried instead, pushing down any instinctive thoughts that were swarming at the back of his head.

“I am _surprised_!” Changbin scoffed overexaggeratedly, almost offendedly, placing a hand over his heart. “You’re proposing to court me? To be such a gentleman as to lead me towards my humble abode? To—”

“Okay, I get it, you fucking theatre nerd. Let’s go,” Seungmin grumbled, getting up off the curb and walking across the street without another thought.

Changbin quickly scrambled up off of the curb, jogging up to him with an endearing grin painting his expression. “Look at you being bold, making decisions. Does that sound like an emotionless robot to you?”

“If I ignore you for the rest of the night, does _that_ sound like an emotionless robot to _you_?” Seungmin retorted.

“Yes,” Changbin squeaked out immediately, feigning hurt, and that caused Seungmin to double over in laughter, unable to act annoyed with the stranger for too long.

“Holy shit,” Seungmin huffed, a bright smile stretching over his face that he couldn’t quite shake. “You cannot keep doing that.”

“Doing what?” Changbin said innocently. “Entertaining my guest with unmatched witticisms?”

“Oh, so I’m _your_ guest?” Seungmin asked. “We’ve decided that?”

“Of course we have. Were you not there for the weekly board meeting?”

“Dearest Changbin,” Seungmin said solemnly, looking over at him as they walked. “I regret to inform you that we have not known each other for an entire week.”

“Feels like we have.”

Seungmin went quiet at that.

They walked in comfortable silence to Seungmin’s car, eventually reaching the lot that was only a short walk down the street.

“Camaro, huh?” Changbin remarked, eyeing the car as they approached it. “Looks a bit too beaten up to be owned by a famous actor, doesn’t it?”

“I used to get up to some things,” Seungmin said mysteriously, opening Changbin’s car door for him.

“Not even going to attempt to ask what that means,” Changbin replied, sending Seungmin a cheeky grin as he climbed into the car. “And what a _refined_ man, I might add—holding open my door and all.”

Seungmin slammed the door.

Changbin yelled something from inside the car, his voice too muffled for the other to hear him. Seungmin sat down in the driver’s seat with a sigh, reaching for his seatbelt, only for Changbin to loudly protest.

“Jesus, what’s the problem now?” Seungmin complained, looking over at Changbin.

“Are you really about to drive me back to my apartment right after you’ve met me?” Changbin criticizes, pointing an accusatory finger at an amused-looking Seungmin. “There is a very clear percentage of things cars are used for, split up into two categories—”

“Oh, do tell,” Seungmin interrupted.

Changbin glared at him, though there was no malice behind it. “Two categories,” he repeated. “Talking into the late hours of the night, and actually driving. The former makes up eighty percent of a car’s use. The latter, twenty percent.”

“So you’re telling me,” Seungmin began to clarify, “that when I am in my car, I should only spend twenty percent of that time on the road?”

“If you are _moving_ on the road, then yes.”

“And where, Changbin, did you get these numbers?”

“My own personal research,” he said proudly, and fuck, that smile was killing Seungmin.

Changbin constantly looked like he was teasing him, even when his expression was genuine. Maybe he would have been better off playing Whizzer Brown than Seungmin was.

“Can you sing?” Seungmin suddenly blurted out, the musical still on his mind.

Changbin looked at him quizzically, slitted eyebrow raised. “Think that’s more your area, isn’t it?” He shook his head, looking at the floor of the car. “You don’t wanna hear me sing, trust me.”

“Gotta be honest, Changbin, I kind of do.”

“Are we talking some Falsettos shit?” he asked, propping his feet up on the dashboard, which normally would have made Seungmin lose his fucking mind if this were anyone else.

But it was Changbin.

Changbin, the stranger that he had only met that night. Changbin, the guy he found himself growing more attracted to by the minute. Changbin, the first person to make him feel some emotion other than annoyance or disinterest in a long fucking time. Changbin, the guy he desperately wanted to ask out on a coffee date sometime this weekend, but was too scared to say anything. Changbin, who he hoped would give him his number by the end of the night.

Changbin, who he hoped he would see again.

“Yeah, sure,” Seungmin said absentmindedly, staring at the black vans atop his dash. “Something from the musical.”  
  


“Like a song Whizzer sings, or…?”

“Any song.”

“How about my favorite?” Changbin offered.

Seungmin sat up a bit straighter in his seat. 

This was something that actually piqued his interest.

“Which one’s your favorite, then?” Seungmin asked.

This was a good way of judging someone’s character, Seungmin knew—by their favorite Falsettos song. 

You could tell a lot about a person if they had a bias towards “The Thrill of First Love.” It was a song that showed a lot of passion, but also represented a relationship that began with toxicity. If you loved “I’m Breaking Down,” you were usually a fan of classic Broadway voices, as well as perfect comedic timing. “The Baseball Game” was one of the best group musical numbers from the show. It had everything—hilarity, reunion of two lovers, sappiness, and a sense of a family. And with “I Never Wanted to Love You”—

“‘What Would I Do?’” Changbin said after some thought. “That’s my favorite.”

Not a sound could be heard aside from the low rumble of the engine, the car slowly warming up.

“Ah,” Seungmin spoke, face unreadable. “One of the best duets to ever grace a stage.”

Changbin began to hum the song, so quietly that Seungmin had to strain to hear it.

It sent shivers down his spine, as if it were the first time he had heard the melody.

“You know,” Changbin said, turning his torso slightly in his seat to face Seungmin. “I think I’d play a good Marvin.”

Butterflies exploded in Seungmin’s chest.

“Is that so?” Seungmin played along, a small grin forming on his face. “You’ll play the love of my life, right until the very end?”

“Of course,” Changbin said immediately, his smile growing. “How could I not?”

“Whizzer and Marvin face a lot of bullshit before they’re together,” Seungmin points out. “You really want that, the perfect heterosexual marriage that you have to break off just so you can be with me?”

“Kim Seungmin, I will marry a woman and birth a child for you,” Changbin said with sincerity, placing a hand over Seungmin’s arm. “It is my duty as the prettiest New Yorker to ever live.”

Seungmin felt Changbin’s warmth radiate over his skin, even through the leather jacket he was wearing. He felt it all in that moment, and it was so overwhelming—it was what he had been waiting for after all of the dissatisfaction he had faced, the despair he had tried to ignore unsuccessfully.

It was like all of the sadness in his heart could be undone tonight—like Changbin would reverse all of that pain that had been holding him back. He hadn’t even known the guy very long and he was already more than amazed by him. 

His presence was incredible; Seungmin just _knew_ he would light up a room the moment he walked in. His ability to make others smile, or laugh, or even feel the slightest _fraction_ better than they did was something Seungmin felt like he would cherish for awhile, if he was given the chance.

And, well.

Changbin was stunning. Like, really, really stunning.

He rolled his eyes, tried to distract from the blush that had settled in almost permanently on his cheeks. “Will you stop with the ‘pretty New Yorker’ thing?”

Changbin held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, you were the one that said it first.”

“Doesn’t mean I meant it,” Seungmin countered.

Changbin leaned over the console a bit and looked Seungmin in the eye. “Okay. So you don’t think I’m pretty?”

Seungmin gulped.

The two stared at each other, completely silent, waiting for the other to break.

“I’m driving you home now,” Seungmin breathed, which sent Changbin into a laughing fit, the man clutching his sides as Seungmin bore holes into the side of his head.

“Holy shit,” Changbin said, wiping a tear from his eye. “I crack myself up.”  
  


“I’ve noticed,” Seungmin said passive-aggressively, putting on his seatbelt. “Buckle up, whore.”

“Hey! Name-calling!” Changbin whined, pushing Seungmin lightly.

“Buckle up! I mean it!”

“Apologize first!”

Seungmin slammed his foot down on the gas, forcing them to lurch forwards, Changbin almost falling out of his seat.

  
  
“I cannot believe you just risked my life like that!” he yelped, though he was holding back another laugh at his own ridiculousness.

Seungmin exhaled in annoyance, breaking in the middle of the parking lot to lean over Changbin and pull out his seatbelt, buckling him in. 

When he looked up, he was mere inches away from Changbin’s face, who was looking at him with that same damn lazy grin that was starting to really get to Seungmin.

“Kind of want to kiss you right now,” Changbin mumbled, placing his thumb on Seungmin’s chin. “Suppose I should wait until you’ve dropped me off at my apartment.”

“Suppose you should,” Seungmin whispered.

Changbin sat back in his seat, looking comfortable. “Whisk me away, oh Beautiful New Compatriot.”

Seungmin drove out of the lot and down Broadway, trying to ignore the fact that Changbin had just called him beautiful.

“Gonna need directions.”

Changbin set up MapQuest, letting his phone tell Seungmin to take a left immediately, forcing the latter to swerve across the road hastily with multiple cars honking at him.

“You literally almost killed us,” Changbin said in awe.

“You don’t sound even the slightest bit worried,” Seungmin gasped, slightly out of breath from how badly his heart was pounding at the shit he just pulled.

“Don’t think you’d have the heart to put me in harm’s way before I at least get to take you out a couple times,” Changbin said nonchalantly, putting his hands behind his head and adjusting his vans on the dash, one leg crossing over the other. “I’m safer in this car than anywhere else.”

Seungmin tried to say something—anything—to that, but nothing came out of his mouth except for fragmented sentences and splutters.

“Man, tonight’s gone pretty damn well, hasn’t it?” Changbin speculated with a small smile, looking over at Seungmin.

“It has, yeah,” Seungmin said, though he knew it was an understatement.

Tonight was fucking fantastic.

“I wonder if you’re always this embarrassed around guys you find attractive.”

“I’m not!” Seungmin practically shrieked. “It’s just…”

“Just me?”

Seungmin thought for a second, and against his better judgment, he agreed.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s just you,” Seungmin murmured.

“Why’s that?” Changbin asked, sounding genuine.

Seungmin hesitated.

“You don’t have to answer that,” Changbin said quickly. “Not if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Seungmin reassured him. “It’s just...it’ll sound so stupid when I say it outloud.”

“It won’t.”

Seungmin breathed in, collecting his thoughts.

“I’m, uh. Kind of a loser? Like, I don’t love myself nearly as much as I probably should. And I can act confident as ever on-stage, portray any character or story I please, sing with real power, you know? But off-stage, I’m kind of useless. I don’t get out enough aside from rehearsing or performing, and I don’t make enough friends. I don’t put myself out there unless it’s for a job, and I don’t visit my family as much as I should. It’s like I don’t serve a purpose.”

Changbin just sat there and soaked it all in. He glanced over at Seungmin, whose eyes were focused on the road ahead of him, listening intently to the directions Changbin’s phone was giving him.

“I think everyone serves a purpose,” Changbin said slowly.

Seungmin laughed at that, but there was no joy behind it.

“I know it sounds dumb,” he acknowledged, “but I mean it. I think there’s a reason for all of us to be here— _especially_ you. You’re doing good shit and making people happy voluntarily, and that’s more than a lot of people can say, isn’t it?”

“I guess, yeah.”

“And you are _not_ a loser!” Changbin insisted. “I never wanna hear you say that again.”

  
  
Seungmin quirked an eyebrow as he turned into the apartment building’s parking lot. “So we _are_ seeing each other again, right?”

“Hand me your phone,” Changbin replied.

“What—” Seungmin began, stopping himself. “That. That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I know, dummy, just hand me your phone!”

Seungmin parked the car and pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and handing it to Changbin. “Don’t know if this is the wisest decision I’ve made today, but here we are.”

Changbin pursed his lips. “Cannot believe you would think I’m about to copy down your social security number or some shit.”

“That literally sounds exactly like something you would do,” Seungmin deadpanned.

Changbin finished typing something into Seungmin’s phone, ignoring his last comment and handing it back to him. On his phone screen was a new contact, labelled “binnie” with a heart emoji next to it, and a number underneath.

“Text me your address, and I can promise I’ll be there tomorrow morning to pay you back for this ride you’ve given me so very graciously. I’m thinking we grab some breakfast and then go mini-golfing, or some kind of cute first date like that,” Changbin suggested.

Seungmin blinked at him.

“Date? As in, you and I. On a date,” Seungmin spoke lethargically, eyes wide.

“Yes, Seungmin,” Changbin said exasperatedly. “You and I. On a date.”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“I would hope it sounds good, yes,” Changbin teased.

“Shut up,” Seungmin groaned, lightly hitting Changbin’s arm. He looked down at his phone for a moment, typing something up, and a moment later Changbin’s phone chimed. “There. My address. Now get out of the car so I can go sleep.”

“Afraid I can’t do that just yet,” Changbin announced, unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning forward. “Think you’ve forgotten something.”

Seungmin’s heart began to race for what had to be the hundredth time that night. 

He leaned forward as well, and Changbin’s lips were so close that they almost ghosted over his own.

And of course, Changbin had to smile at that.

“Do you ever stop smiling?” Seungmin asked, but the question was a bit hypocritical, as he was grinning from ear to ear at this point, too. 

“Not when the prettiest boy in New York is right in front of me,” Changbin whispered.

“Thought that was your job,” Seungmin commented, pressing his forehead against Changbin’s despite how terribly nervous he was at their close proximity.

“Got replaced tonight, actually. Don’t even know how I’m supposed to get another job in this economy, what with recession and—”

Seungmin kissed him right then and there, if only to get him to stop talking.

Changbin was still smiling, of course, even as he kissed Seungmin back—more intensely than he had ever been kissed, he would like to add.

Some sort of long-forgotten feeling formed within Seungmin, something that told him everything was going to be okay, something that filled up that emptiness. He felt like he was worth something, like this kiss meant more than anything had meant in _years_ , like he was on top of the world and nothing could possibly bring him down.

“So tomorrow,” Changbin mumbled into his lips, kissing him again quickly, “I’ll be at your place at 10?”

“Yeah,” Seungmin breathed, biting down on his bottom lip to stop himself from smiling so hard. “Yeah, that’s good.”

Changbin left the car, walked into his building, and Seungmin sat in his Camaro, trying to piece together what the fuck even just happened.

Eventually, he drove home to his apartment, got in bed, and tried to fall asleep without smiling so hard his face hurt.

Morning came, and he woke himself up two hours before ten, taking his shower and spending most of the rest of his time picking out an outfit that would blow Changbin away.

And when the time came, he heard a knock at his door that made him giddy before he could even open it.

“Coming!” He called out, grabbing his phone and his key before he could forget them.

Seungmin opened his apartment door to a posing Changbin, poised and unmoving as if he were a statue.

“You are so, so dumb.”

“Is that any way to greet me when I’m about to buy you breakfast?” Changbin whined, immediately falling out of his pose as Seungmin closed the door behind him.

“Yes,” Seungmin said without even the slightest pause.

“Whatever,” Changbin said, eyes suddenly lighting up as he thought of something. “Race you down the stairs!”

And he sprinted away, the Broadway star that only a day prior had felt utterly discontented with his life following in hot pursuit.

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!! this is the first thing i've written since therapy sessions ended :^) i know it's short but i really enjoyed writing it and hope everyone likes it !! comments and kudos are always appreciated as well 💕
> 
> also would highly recommend the musical referenced in this fic, falsettos! i grew up with it and i've always been in love with it haha.


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